


all we know

by dolphins



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, comforting! yuuri, confusion regarding feels, drunk! viktor, fluffy fluff, lots of pining, tipsy! yuuri, viktor is such a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:30:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8365186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolphins/pseuds/dolphins
Summary: A certain perfomance has encaptured Viktor and Yuuri is left to deal with the drunken aftermath of their celebrations.





	

**Author's Note:**

> okay- i have had the MOST fun ever writing this.
> 
> I can't quite believe how fast this fandom is growing! you guys are awesome- feeding the fandom flower with all this fertilizer!!

A kitten clings to him with shaking, jittery limbs before timidly padding onto the ice. In mere seconds, Viktor witnesses the one of the most shocking transformations he has ever seen. With the seductive pull of a violin comes the emergence of a lion into the rink.

Stalking the perimetre with alluring, graceful, and perhaps downright sexy movements; the entire audience is encaptured by it as its pray and they are ever-so willing.

Viktor more so than any. When he isn't analysing ever single movement, as firstly a coach, he allows himself the mere pleasure of feeling. Letting the chill of the ice and the thrum of the crowd pound his bones, feel Yuuri's twirls and taps in every receptor twitching on his skin.

It's a demon, an angel, it is entirely Katsuki Yuuri in all his bashful, powerful, timid form. Viktor's blood swooshes as their eyes meet across the ice.

Eros. Agape. Oh god, Viktor is feeling a little funny in the chest.

 

Celebrate. It was simply a given considering Yuuri had won. He comes off the ice as a cub, head tall and face flushed, patting away the sweat making streaks down his face.

"You made me very proud," Viktor voices, following him into the changing room. Yuuri looks up with eyes brimmed full of all kinds of emotion. Never in all his life had Viktor seen eyes so alive.

Beaming, "Thank you," he scratches the back of his neck. It's quite easy to make Yuuri smile, have him purring shyly. Viktor can't understand why more people aren't putting in the same effort. Why they don't feel addicted to the thrill of tugging that curve of the lips to his face; hooked on the dilation of blood vessles in his cheeks.

"We're all going out for drinks and some food," Viktor leans against the wall with one arm like some kind of Greek god. "I'm expecting you there as the star attraction,"

"I'll be there," he flushes, raking a hand through sweaty hair. Unknowingly sending an electric shock of lust through Viktor that surprises even the man himself. "I just need to shower and get dressed,"

It's subtle hint to please leave. Viktor smirks to himself, making no move to exit. It makes the other practically burn for a second under a heavy-lidded gaze. God, Yuuri is just so... fun.

 

All of the clan tag along to the bar, a few clusters of fans too but after a few hours they disperse. Yuri is nowhere to be seen and Viktor should worried, but he's a selfish person really. Instead he focuses soley on trying to not look quite so fixated on the man grinning behind a pair of spectacles.

When on Earth did Yuuri become so- so mesmerising. Sure he was an adorable little toy before, but Eros did something to Viktor's brain it seems because the performance has him glued.

It's understandable, however. Skating is almost Viktor's second language and listening to such beautiful tones on the ice has him chilly all over. For people like him, people like Yuuri, a meaningful perfomance speaks deeper than any empty words ever could.

"Another please," he tells the barman and his eyes glide over to Yuuri. He is laughing with his mother, full from the celebratory meal. A satisfied stretch with arms above his head sends Viktor's mind into a frenzy. "Can you make that two?" he adds.

With a flourish, he plants the glass down in front of Yuuri and the skater looks up, surprised. "I don't normally drink very much," he says but he seems grateful anyway. "But thank you, Viktor," and picks it up.

Minako is an impressive rival, matching him drink for drink, and then some. It's not a competition. But it is, because for Viktor, everything kind of is.

"Lightweight!" she shouts brazenly and half-drunk, slamming her glass down after an enormous glug. "I am not," he snickers, spluttering over the rim of his glass as he struggles to match her pace.

"You are too!" she slaps a hand over his arm and it's actually enough to make him sway on his stool. Viktor won't be getting on the wrong side of her anytime soon.

"Okay, okay," he appeases, laughing and he's got to that stage where there's a limit to the amount of information he can take in.  Okay so there's the bar. There is Minako. There is drinks. A fuzzy warmth sets in, like an orange lantern in his chest and he can feel his skin hot.

"Where's Yuuri?" he looks around before turning to Minako. "I think he took the next flight back to Russia, haven't you heard?" she shouts over the buzz of the crowd. Music has started and it gives the atmosphere a lively kick.

"No, no, no," he shakes his head. Bad idea. Not even just because it sends his hair into disarray. "I meant where's my Yuuri?" there's heavy emphasis on the 'my' as his eyes widen all blue with concern.

Minako stares at him for a second before snorting with laughter. It's like a bubbling waterfall that ends up spluttering over the sides. She's a cackling mess over the bar counter in seconds and Viktor is poking her arm persistently like one of the triplets.

"Stop- stop that right now," he slurs childishly. He holds a hand to his tummy, trying to quell the strange flurry of neon butterflies tickling the lumens of his veins.

It came out so easily, so fluid, that he doesn't even question it. However that's not to say he enjoys being laughed at by a lady he barely even knows. Because he does not.

Then bang out of nowhere, "You two look to be having a good time," Yuuri is suddenly there. He has to wrestle, desperately trying to wrap a hand around Minako's giggling mouth to prevent anything slipping out. Yuuri looks ever so slightly... amused. It's foreign and suits him very well.

For a split second Viktor wants him to feel jealous. It instantly makes him feel terribly guilty for wishing that on Yuuri. But it's true. He wants to experiment with his expressions. See what he looks like when he is furious at the thought of Viktor wanting anyone but him. With the thought of Yuuri desiring him in such a way, he shivers.

His hand drops from her mouth and his limbs splatter bonelessly over the counter.

"I'll leave you two be," she says obviously, all winks and nudges directed to Yuuri as she collects her drinks and moves along. Cringe. Oh god. Viktor doesn't get embarrassed easily. But behaving like such a pitiful, obsessed admirer has him feeling all kinds of pathetic. Fuck you very much, Eros.

"You two are a dangerous combination," Yuuri smiles and when he sits down, Viktor gets a gush of his flowery-smelling shampoo. A sweet, sense-heightening hurricane. "I don't think she needs any competition in her field,"

"She's got nothing on me," his fingers creep up, spindly snakes that slither along Yuuri's flesh until they reach his shoulder. Muscles contract under his hand and he leans in close. It's making Viktor's whole body tingle.

"Famous last words," Yuuri teases, looking a little less like the lion earlier, and incredibly more like the prey. "You might be the best skater in the world, but you can't be the best at everything,"

It's teasing. Practically... flirty. Viktor would be scandalized if he wasn't so drunk. This is what he craves. Yuuri giving him a little tug back down to the ground.

Viktor likes his ego stroked as much as the next world famous skater, but there's something about sweet, innocent, little Yuuri, viewing him on an equal platform that he finds more appealing than perhaps even Yuuri ever has.

"I happen to disagree," Viktor looks at him, lids low on blazing eyes. It's hard to disguise all this strange chemistry that's been guzzling inside him from the second Yuuri met his eyes across the ice.

A finger runs along Yuuri's jaw, feeling the softness of his round face.

Only when Yuuri's mother strolls into his bleary-eyed view does he release. She ignores the charged atmosphere and Viktor orders another drink. What was he planning to do? Kiss him right there- in the middle of the bar?

 

It's closing time when they are kicked out into the street like petulant teenagers. Pitch black sky and freezing, snowy clouds lie low, they stumble out with the rest.

Viktor, a little worse for wear, fails to coordinate his long limbs and ends up in a pile on the wet floor, snickering with laughter. "You're a mess," Yuuri giggles, he isn't quite as bad but enough so to ease the tension that always seems present in the close proximity of his idol.

Yuuri leans down and tries to pull him up, the remaining snow is seeping to his clothes making him laugh more. It's tickly and he is enjoying every second of Yuuri's hands on his body, fighting and wriggling to prolong the contact.

"Come on, you're going to freeze," he is bent over and Viktor has to ignore the childish urge to tug him down too. "I won't!" he retorts, which isn't any more mature in fairness.

"Get up and we'll go and get katsudon," Yuuri promises; it sounds a bit like he is dealing with a child and he looks frazzled, hands reaching around Viktor's hips timidly, but firm. He wraps Viktor's arms around his neck and pulls him up with a grunt.

Oh god, their bodies smush together and Viktor feels weak, a rag doll flopping into the snuggy embrace. "You're so warm," he groans, burying his face into Yuuri's neck as the other man tries to keep them both standing.

"Woah, Viktor," Yuuri squirms, ticklish and they stumble. One wee slip and they collapse into a tangle of body parts on the snow-dusted grass. "Are you okay?" they say almost at the same time, laughing and laughing until their lungs are hurting.

"God, yes," Viktor crawls up to meet him at eye level. Yuuri looks pinned underneath him, glasses sideways, hair a dark nest on his head, and eyes unreadable with only the streetlamps for light. "I'm incredibly okay,"

Yuuri gasps. Coy and looking ever so biteable. Viktor wants to sink his teeth in and kiss hickeys on that soft skin. "I want you to feel like that too," his eyes dart down to look at the man's lips. Plump and damp.

It's becoming quite clear the nature of Viktor's feelings, and while Yuuri is innocent and inexperienced, he isn't completely oblivious. A bright red plasters his cheeks and nose, Viktor wonders what he's thinking about, and how he can toy out more of those goregous expressions.

"I want to kiss you," he admits, eyes looking intense and a smirk framing a perfect set of teeth. It looks more confident than his drunken self feels. Okay, Yuuri isn't exactly rejecting his signals, but it doesn't mean he thinks of Viktor like that. Looks up to him, sure, admires him, yes, but he is his coach for goodness sake.

"I-" Yuuri stutters, choking on his own words. Chocolate coloured eyes are like boulders, he looks like someone just told him aliens had taken over the onsen.

Viktor touches Yuuri's open mouth with fingers skimming like stones across the water. Ripples of tingling nerves follow their trail. "That's not really what you want," Yuuri blurts out. Viktor's eyebrows crease in confusion and suddenly the world is tilted as he's being pulled up.

"Yuuri," he mutters, but the other stays silent, throwing one of Viktor's arms over his shoulder. He holds him upright with a hand on his hip.

 

"Careful," he scolds quietly when they triapse home, Viktor clampering into a rattly shelf. Water drips from their clothes but both are too sleepy to pay much heed.

"I don't feel well," Viktor mumbles, holding his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "You will feel better in the morning," Yuuri says gently, steering him around the furniture. "No," Viktor emphasises, nausea building in his stomach. "I don't feel well now,"

It takes Yuuri a second to cop on. His eyes widen in alarm and all Viktor can think is shit. Shit, shit, oh God, no. If he pukes over the man, he thinks he just might return to Russia after all.

"Can you make it to the bathroom?" Yuuri is panicking ever so slightly. But also a little 'this couldn't possibly be real'- he couldn't actually be looking after Viktor Nikiforov. After denying him a kiss- a kiss! He shakes his head over and over but the shock is implanted like a leech.

"I sure hope so," Viktor groans pitifully, looking a little pathetic as he curls into Yuuri and hopes to god he passes out before the inevitable boking.

"Come on, just a little further," Yuuri adjusts his grip and tries to avoid the soft breath on his neck, sending chills tap-dancing down his spine. "Here we go,"

Thank heavens they get there with probably seconds to spare, and Viktor flings his usually elegant form into a messy bundle over the toliet. Puking up his guts, he thinks for the first time that maybe he shouldn't have traipsed all the way over the world. Yuuri kneels beside him, rubbing circles into his heaving back and the thought rapidly dissipates.

"You're okay," he soothes in a hushed tone, cold hands pulling Viktor's sweaty hair away from his face. God, this is humiliating. He is the man's idol. Well, not for long, Viktor supposes. "I'm sorry," he tries to choke out in between emptying the contents of his stomach.

"Shhh," Yuuri strokes his hair a bit, maintaining the relaxing massage on his back with gentle, nimble hands. "Please don't try to talk,"

He nods. Bad idea. Leaning back over the toliet, shoulders shaking, he repeats and embarrassingly he feels his eyes prickle with tears. It's perhaps a combination of heightened emotions due to alcohol, perhaps the agony in his throat and tummy, or perhaps it's the fact that Yuuri rejected him and now he's being so- so nice. Viktor is struggling to stop himself stupidly sobbing into the toliet bowl.

"I was terrible at maths at school," Yuuri starts talking and it's so random, so out of place, Viktor almost chokes on laughter. "So bad. I mean bottom of my class bad,"

He reaches over and grabs the toliet roll, wrapping a bundle around his hand as he speaks. "My favourite colour is blue, probably more turquoise than blue. Like the oceans in hot countries," tenderly he reaches over, on his knees and wipes at Viktor's face, holding his hair back.

"I tried to learn the violin once, but I was terrible. I couldn't read the music and I couldn't find the notes in time with the music," Viktor turns to look at him over his shoulder, a far cry from his usual, confident self.

"What are you doing?" his voice is croaky.

"You said you wanted to know more about me," Yuuri shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "I thought now was as good of time as any,"

Viktor blinks. Then he laughs. One that grows in his tummy and builds and builds, until its an all encompassing monster of a thing and he's shaking, laughter tears and all, into Yuuri's knees as they giggle like children. On the bathroom floor. At who knows what time of the morning.

"You're going to get us into so much trouble," Yuuri tries to cover his mouth, in attempt to maintain the overall unconscious state of the house. Viktor's eyes darken with all kinds of thoughts. "I wish,"

It's not too difficult to convince the resident nudist to strip off his soaked clothes but Yuuri is dark red and practically has a crick in his neck from staring at the ceiling, by the time Viktor is safe in bed.

"Wait," Viktor catches the hem of his shirt and tugs him close. It isn't with much force, his motor control had long since slowed down.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he slurs softly, his eyes are heavy with sleep and it's becoming a bit too much. Yuuri taking such good care of him, it makes him want to curl up in a cave and never come out. "I shouldn't have humiliated you like that, trying it on,"

It's bizarre for Viktor to be speaking so genuinely, so sincerely regretful. His tone is stripped bare of its' usual teasing or flattery or chastising.

"You've awakened my inspiration Yuuri," he closes his eyes to avoid looking too much at the man gaping. "I want to know what it is about you that did that,"

"What it is about you that makes you so attractive and alluring. Why I want to stay in Japan and eat katsudon with you and skate until our lungs give out,"

"Viktor, I-"

"It's okay though. I understand," Viktor mumbles. He is half asleep making it almost like he's doing a monologue. "When you take away the skating, I guess there isn't really anything left to me. Not like you, Yuuri,"

"You're drunk, Viktor," Yuuri feels his heart clench. "I don't want to take advantage of that. I don't want you to say something you don't really mean, something you'll forget or take back when you're sober," he bravely reaches out and brushes away Viktor's hair with a shaking hand.

The Russian man's breathing levels out and he pulls the blanket up to his chin, obviously having drifted off.

"I think this is what I've been waiting for all my life," Yuuri croaks, his heart is racing like a caffeine addict's and his thoughts are a swirling tornado-mess. "I can't- I won't let myself screw it up,"

 

Bang. Bang. Bang. God, there's an army of workers doing construction work in Viktor's skull and man, it is agony. There's no going back to sleep and he lies there for a moment, letting the flush of regrets and shame seep into his pores.

An empty glass of water sits by his bed and he supposes Yuuri must have gave it to him at some stage during the night. Perhaps in between cursing the Russian's very existence and googling 'what to do if your coach tries it on?'.

Viktor taunts with the idea of remaining in bed until physically dragged from it. A long enough period of time to allow a trauma-induced amnesia to kick in, or early-onset dementia for Yuuri. But that's not exactly Viktor's style, he would be a cocky prick to the devil himself, even if he was shaking in his diamond-studded skates.

"Good morning," he greets Yuuri, tuggling his robe round his half-naked body. Yuuri looks up, a little flustered all of a sudden and he pushes his glasses back. "I doubt it's too good for you. How's the head?"

"Agony," Viktor smiles weakly, taking a seat beside him. "I'll make some tea. I was going to wake you for breakfast but I thought it might be better to let you sleep, I'll heat it up now,"

"Thank you very much," Viktor feels a little humbled. "You are very kind,"

Their eyes are locked for a second and Yuuri pauses in his tracks. That heavy, meaning-loaded air is clogging up the kitchen and Yuuri breaks away first, clumsily attending to his tasks.

"I'm sorry for troubling you so much last night," Viktor feels a little braver saying when the adorable man has his back turned. His shirt rides up a little on luscious hips and Viktor's tummy aches. "I hope you can forgive my foolishness,"

Yuuri turns, "Don't be silly. Everyone drinks too much from time to time, but we had a good night all in all,"

It's things like this that- that infuriate Viktor. Any normal person would be angry. Any normal person would probably have thrown him out long ago. But not Yuuri. He's such an anomaly, such an outlier, such an actual genuinely kind person, Viktor want's to crawl inside his mind and have a rummage. Perhaps even have a crawl around inside his mouth too.

"Eat up. You'll feel tons better with something in your queasy stomach," Yuuri sets the plate in front of his timidly, their arms touching ever so minutely.

Funnily enough, it makes his butterflies multiply by about... a million.

 

They take a walk to the Ice Castle. It's mid-afternoon and the sun is trying to fan out the blinding snow, to no avail. Cold breaths make them look like a pair of smokers as they trail down the icy street.

They've barely spoken since they left and Viktor longs to say something- anything to get rid of the mountain of tension that's building up in his chest. Every movement feels loaded with meaning, a fidget with a coat button, a brush back of hair, a shaky adjust of a pair of glasses. The agony.

This isn't Viktor. He dominates social interactions, he leeches out the information he wants and leaves the other hanging on his ever word. It's not a conscious decision, mind you, naturally it's just what comes easy to him. Growing up a star does that to you, he supposes. You fight to keep your place and you always get what you want.

So what on Earth is this man doing to him?

"What?" Yuuri finally asks, ears red from being intensely stared at for who knows how long.

A lump rises in his throat. It's perhaps now or never; there's only so long the pair of stubborn mules can ignore The Situation. "I just- about last night,"

Yuuri shakes his head. "It's okay. I know. You were drunk and you lost sense of what you were saying. I understand that and I- I won't take anything to heart, I can't lose you as a coach," he breathes, increasingly losing any grasp of composure. "-I can't lose you full-stop Viktor,"

Only his panting can be heard and the both of them stop dead in their tracks. Flashbacks to, "I want you to stay and eat katsudon," ring in Viktor's mind, the same frazzled determination.

"What are you talking about?" Viktor grabs his arm and sinks slender fingers into his flesh. "I wasn't saying it because I was drunk, Yuuri,"

"I- I wanted to kiss you," he coughs out any creases in his unsteady tone. "I meant every word and I still do. But I would never hold your disgust against you, I will keep my promise and stay your coach no matter what,"

"Y-Y-You what?" Yuuri's jaw drops down a flight of stairs and Viktor thinks he heard the bang when it landed. "Is this a joke?"

Viktor's eyebrows crinkle in confusion. "Huh?" Yuuri looks incredibly more put-out as he fights a blush. "Is that what this is? Are you teasing me?" he demands quietly.

Viktor fumbles with his Scrabble-like bag of words. No letter combinations can be made. No points for him this round. He passes his go.

"You seen the posters, didn't you?" Yuuri accuses and Viktor shakes his head. Maybe in some language or parallel-universe this is making sense. "You're mocking me,"

"What on Earth are you talking about Yuuri?" he frowns, so incredibly serious in his concern it makes Yuuri pause. "Are you really that much of an idiot?"

Yuuri gapes. Viktor can't quite believe how this has escalated. Again, fuck you Eros. It's all unfolding in the middle of the street and neither can probably feel their extremities.

"I think you're amazing, and that performance made me want to explore quite how amazing you are," he admits, voice a little strained and impatient to mask quite how embarrassed he is feeling.

"Me?" Yuuri shakes his head over and over, pointing at his chest as if this is, by far, the most mind-blowing concept he had ever heard in all his years.

"No," Viktor rolls his eyes, sarcasm bleeding out. This is actual torture. He could actually sack Yuuri on the spot for completely dragging out his slow, painful death. "I'm talking to that tree behind you,"

"W-why?" Yuuri digs his fingernails into his cheek lightly as he stares around the perimetre. Signs of a dream? Non-existent.

"You actually are as much of an idiot as I thought," Viktor says tenderly. Yuuri's reaction is probably the most endearing thing he has ever witness though. Far cuter than even his dog. "If you think so little of yourself that you can't comprehend anyone wanting you,"

Viktor cups his other arm with his hand. It is like they are linked, blood swooshing in frantic hearts to thump to a matching beat. Lungs sync to eachother's rhythm. Like a sweet, timid, biological orchestra.

"I- I-" Yuuri trips up over his stutters, the wind breathing his hair into a daft concoction on his face. Slowly, gaining slightly more confidence about The Situation, Viktor swoops it away to reveal those eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers. "Only if you want me to. I'll do exactly as you say, you decide," it's far too intimate to be doing this out in public, where anyone can see.

Yuuri doesn't even think he knows how to kiss. Nevermind doing it with another man. In the middle of the street. With not anyone other than Viktor Nikiforov himself. He could actually faint. Goodbye world.

"I-I- y-yes," he splutters, probably far too fast. This isn't real. This isn't real. 3-2-1 he is going to wake up.

Noone is around. It's half snowing after all. Most of the sane population are out of the minus-one hundred degrees temperatures. Cars whizz by and trees ruffle in the wind, light snow floats around like cherry blossom petals.

Viktor's taking a mental image. Breathing in every molecule and savouring. Yuuri is looking up at him, waiting with goregously damp lips. No trophy, no screaming crowd, no 6ft super-model has ever sent this thrill of sheer anticipation through his whole body.

Inspiration hit him like a ton of bricks because of Yuuri. And now there's a whole load more bags of feelings dropping down on Viktor's crushed spine, he hasn't even gotten the chance to sort through them.

They lean towards each other, holding onto woolly coats with frostbit hands. Time does actually slow down, Viktor thinks, like all the movies and books says it does.

Then, true to form, Yuuri catches his foot on an uneven slab of stone and slips on the ice, falling forward. "Shit!" they both yell in a multitude of languages as they're sent topping over in a similar position to the drunken night before. However, this time it's Viktor pinned underneath.

Despite the complete and utter mortification, they are in hysterics. "I was trying to be romantic!" Viktor defends through breathless giggling and Yuuri covers his face with his hands, making no move to get up. "I will be so embarrassed if something is watching," he face-plants into Viktor's chest.

"You are quite adorable when you're like this," Viktor grins, the strange tension is gone and he just feels this easy, calm, sunny feeling in his chest.

Yuuri is looking at his lips with a peculiar expression. One Viktor hasn't had the privledge of taking a snapshot in his mind and storing it in a scrapbook yet. He mutters something that sounds a little like, "Fuck it," in Japanese and if that doesn't stun Viktor enough, he sinks his lips into his.

Soft and moulding perfectly into his, they dance out a rhythm that sends both their bodies into a freezing-cold frenzy of flames.

It's heaven on Earth. It's a completely bizarre situation and Viktor feels like he's addicted to the feeling already. He can't get enough and his fingers tangle in Yuuri's hair as he tilts his head, dipping his tongue in between Yuuri's willing lips. Yuuri lets out a suprised moan.

Stopping their kiss short with an embarrassed hand over his mouth. He's inexperienced but learning fast and Viktor, the best coach you could get, thinks he's a natural.

"I want to do that again," Viktor smirks lustfully, a finger brushing across Yuuri's lips. Lips he has kissed! Surely this is heaven. It's quite possible he died of alcohol poisioning during the night. "I'll have to take you on a date however, properly court you- if you'll let me,"

Yuuri pulls himself up from his suggestive position and brushes down his clothes. Suddenly in a rush to get inside as he tugs Viktor up too.

"I would like that very much," he utters shyly, burying his face into his scarf as they stride towards the Ice Castle in a love-struck frenzy of too-many emotions and sickening puppy-dog gazes.

Viktor counts his lucky stars. Thank god for Eros, he thinks with a contented grin.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!
> 
> it would mean the world to me if you take a wee sec to drop me some of your thoughts! lemme have them!! con-crit! ramblings!!
> 
> *pants*


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